


I Am The Resistance

by kassanovella



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Ben Solo rescues you from your shitty life, But we'll never know, Can you fucking believe it?, F/M, Fluff, ForceSensitive!Ben Solo, PossibleSexualDeviant!Ben Solo, Reader-Insert, Resistance Fighter!Ben Solo, Seriously no smut, There's not a single penis in this story, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 03:06:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7082653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kassanovella/pseuds/kassanovella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How long had you been waiting?  </p><p>It’d been long enough for the notches on your wall to blur together. As you scratched in a line, you peeped through the ancient bars built into the opening. The two moons glowed a soft white-yellow against the black sky, guarded by armies of stars. There was someone out there who was looking for you.</p><p>There had to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Am The Resistance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Faestae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faestae/gifts).



How long had you been waiting?  

It’d been long enough for the notches on your wall to blur together. One for every hour. At least, that’s how it had begun. You’d started running out of room so quickly that you cut it down to every sunrise and sunset. And then simply every sunset.

Okay, so, you didn’t really have a method, at all. All you knew was that there was only a bit of space left. The center keystone, right under the barricaded window. Just a few dozen more sunsets and you’d have used up that part, too. As you scratched in a line, you peeped through the ancient bars built into the opening. The two moons glowed a soft white-yellow against the black sky, guarded by armies of stars. There was someone out there who was looking for you.

There _had_ to be.

Sighing into the cold air, you flopped onto the straw-stuffed mattress you reluctantly called your bed. After however-many-days, you’d grown used to the poke of dried grass at your anxious flesh. You’d grown used to having the narrow scope of your world consumed by a tiny cell. You’d even grown used to the _ache_ , as you called it, though it’d taken you awhile to identify it by name.

The _ache_ was the feeling you got whenever you saw starships shoot by in the night--bright blue streaks of light, fading fast into nothingness. It was the feeling you got when you stared into your empty ceiling, watching day turn to night turn to day, existing on a forgotten plane. It was the feeling you got when you closed your eyes and listened to your pounding heart, wondering if you’d ever know a pulse other than your own.

It was a lonely, lost, feeling--the _ache_. And it was born from the fear of never finding home.

You’d long run out of tears to shed--so instead, you closed your eyes, hoping to suspend your brain until the next period of hazy consciousness. Soon, you’d fall asleep, and wake up to a meager meal, as you always did, and--

A noise. One you hadn’t heard before. After all of this time, you’d grown familiar with every sound inside and outside of your window. Chattering, chittering, squeaking, shouting--you knew them all, could even predict them most days. But this sound was different. Loud, descending, mechanical. It was a ship. It was a _big_ ship. Springing from your bed, you hopped back to the window, gripping the bars with a twist of terror and curiosity, your breath catching in your throat.

The ship _was_ big--you’d never seen anything like it before. It was a massive circle, moonlight glinting off of the white durasteel. The blue light of the engine was dying now that it had landed--and through a dome of windows, you could see the cockpit, already empty. Clanging cut through the stark silence of night, and two bodies emerged from the shadow of the ship--one tall, but one _significantly_ taller. And hairer. Blood coursed like liquid fire through your veins, and you dropped your head, back flush with the wall while you sought to stuff oxygen into your lungs.

It took all of your willpower not to shout out to them, to beg them to break you free. The desire was tempered only by your ignorance of their intentions--you didn’t want to goad them into somehow convincing your captors to do worse. You could hear the ground vines crunching underneath their feet as they drew closer. Stilling the rapid rising of your chest, you swallowed, cupping your ears.

A gargled howl, shushed by another voice.

“Keep it down, Chewie!” you heard the person hiss. A male. Most likely human. “You already might have blown our cover with that sloppy landing.”

Another grumble--somehow indignant.

“No, I did it _exactly_ like my dad showed me, and--”

The other creature responded in a choppy mumble.

“Okay, okay, fine. You’re right. Happy, now?”

A pleased chirp.

“Okay. Now if mom’s intelligence is any good, we just gotta break the girl out from one of these cells--”

You hadn’t heard the rest of the man’s sentence, your brain swarmed with a wave of desperate, eager joy. A girl. In a cell. You were in a girl in a cell. You needed to be broken out. Before you’d had time to think it through, you leaped back to the window, lack of use causing your voice to heave in a coarse whisper.

“Hey! Here! It’s me! I’m the girl!”

The man--you were able to make out features now, definitely human--looked to the creature next to him and then to you, brandishing the blaster on his hip while he slunk forward. As he moved closer, he came into focus: tall, broad-shouldered, with dark, wavy hair tied up behind his head. He was handsome--muscular, too, if the hint of chest exposed by his open-collar shirt was anything to go by. Against your better judgement, your cheeks burned. You wished you were wearing something other than the First Order equivalent of a burlap sack.

When within feet of the wall, he stopped, looked up, then back at the window, voice low. “Do they have any alarms on this thing?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. This place is probably over a thousand years old. It’s so remote they only have a few officers stationed here. I guessed they figured no one would find it.”

“Huh.” He chuckled, spinning his blaster on his forefinger before shoving it back in its holster. “They _still_ have no faith in the Resistance.”

“You’re with the Resistance?” you said, trying to strangle handprints into the window bars.

The man winked at you. “I _am_ the Resistance.” Then the hairy creature groaned, and the man shot him a look. “ _Shh_!” He turned back, clearing his throat. “You… You _are_ the Senator’s daughter, right?”

Words escaped you for a moment. Someone knew. Someone _knew_. “Y-yes,” you said. “Yes, I am. I am. I thought…” You suppressed the scrape of pain in your voice. “I thought everyone had forgotten about me.”

He balked. “What? No--no way! I’ve been looking for you for _months_. Right, Chewie?”

The creature--Chewie--nodded, shrugging with some hesitation. He offered a small grumble, and the man raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know! Just try pulling the bars or something!”

Nodding, Chewie stomped forward, towering above the window, and gripped the bars of your prison with two huge, furry hands, growling while he bent them away from each other. The metal croaked as an opening formed. It was wide enough, surely, for you to sneak through. Your jaw fell agape, your fingers trembling--this was happening. This was really happening. The man wedged himself between Chewie and the window, holding his hand out to you.

“Come on,” he said, “we gotta get going before they notice the Falcon.”

Your eyes darted between his hand and his face. His brown eyes shimmered in the moonlight, impish and hopeful and honest. Gulping down any apprehension, you nodded, placing your sweaty palm on his, ignoring the spark of electricity that jolted between you. You blamed it on not having touched another human in… well...

He clutched you--grip almost enveloping yours--and tugged you forward, grabbing your other hand and letting you use him as leverage to pull yourself over the wall. Everything was spinning, mind racing hundreds of steps ahead--all you could focus on were his eyes, drilling holes right through you.

When you’d almost fully squeezed through the bars, the man took you in his arms, lifting and placing you on the ground with ease, foundation feeling like freedom under your feet. He was staring at you again, expectant, a lopsided grin on his face. Gooseflesh rushed your skin, and you glanced at your feet, cursing the red tinge on your cheeks. A large hand invaded your line of sight.

“I’m Ben,” he said, and you met his gaze. “Ben Solo.”

You’d forgotten your own name for a moment--but nodded, shaking his hand and introducing yourself.

Ben snickered. “I _know_ who you are, kid.” He looked back to the ship. “You ready to go?”

Before you could reply, you heard voices rising, words unintelligible, followed by the blaring of an alarm. Heart halting in your chest, you looked to Ben, his lips formed in a frown.

“No choice now!” he said, and snatched your hand once more. “Let’s go, let’s go!”

He’d already started running, yanking you by your arm, his long legs taking three of your steps in a single stride. You were panting, squeezing his hand like a lifeline, struggling to keep from stumbling as he dragged you along. Chewie was faster than you both, reaching the ship and climbing on before either of you had even touched the entrance. Behind you, the voices had evolved into furious shouting, blaster shots breaking ground around your feet.

“Ah! Ben!” you cried, clinging to him while he clambered onto the Falcon.

“We’re good, we’re good!” He jerked you into the ship, slamming the hatch shut behind you and rushing to the cockpit to join Chewie. “Up, up, up, c’mon--”

Chewie groaned, and Ben shook his head.

“ _I know_!”

The engines hummed, the floor shaking underneath you as you plopped onto a bench--and then you were rocked back into the wall, the ship lurching forward and launching into the sky. Ben and Chewie cheered, and from your seat, you could see the light in the cockpit dim, vanishing into the void of space. Your lungs were still trailing behind you, gathering breath best they could, your heart thrumming hard in your ears. You glanced down at your hands--still quaking, still sweaty--and counted your fingers. One, two, three, four, five.

Five on each hand. This was real.

“Hey.” Ben’s voice snapped you from your trance, and you looked up at him. “You all right?”

Blushing, you bobbed your head, averting your gaze. “Uh, yeah. Yep. Sorry.”

He laughed, sinking down next to you. His proximity lit flames on your skin. In the clear light of the Falcon, he became even handsomer--beautiful, even--and you finally noticed the dark marks dotting his skin, his long nose, his full, pink lips.

“It’s a miracle we even found you.” He sniffed in amusement. “The First Order hid that planet pretty well.”

You peered up at him through your lashes, chewing your cheeks. “Were you really looking for me for… months?”

Ben nodded, scanning your figure again. “We sure were,” he said, smirking. “Didn’t think you’d be this pretty, though.”

 _Oh, stars_. You wanted to crawl in a hole. Maybe back into your cell. Was a man like _him_ really saying that to _you--_ a dirt-covered girl in Regulation First Order Frump? “Um…”

“I can hear you, you know,” he said, winking. “You aren’t frumpy in the least.”

You gasped, crimson covering your face. He was one of _those_. You ran through the past 10 minutes of your internal dialogue. How much did he know? How much had he heard?

“Oh, pretty much everything,” he chuckled, placing his hand on yours. Out of pure shock, you didn’t tear it away. “Don’t worry, kid. It’s cute.”

If he continued, you were certain you were either going to melt into your seat or explode into a thousand tiny crystals and litter the entire ship. Swallowing the ball of saliva and nerves lodged in your throat, you managed to meet his eyes. Almost instantly, you were trapped there, locked into his stare, lip quivering as you began to memorize every fleck of molten gold in his irises.  

“Cute?” Your voice sounded foreign and raw.

Ben nodded once more, tongue wetting his plump lower lip. “Yeah,” he said. “ _Cute_.”

Then his mouth smothered yours, and he laced your fingers together as he brought his other hand to your chin, pulling you closer. His kiss was hot, tender, drawing out every reservation you had and turning it to ash. You weren’t sure how long the kiss lasted--just that when he slipped his tongue into your mouth, you closed your eyes, wiping your mind free of fear.

The only thing you could think to remember was the keystone--blank, forever blank, forever free of a single, solitary mark.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for my beautiful, perfect friend Faestae, whom I love. I hope she likes this and that it brightened her day a little bit! And, as well, I hope y'all enjoyed it too! Here it is--proof I can write something without smut.


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